Coffee, Tea Or Me?
by nytecat
Summary: A raven haired exHiME is being grumpy in the morning.


_**Title: Coffee, Tea or Me?**_

_Author's note: This story is dedicated to sarcasticdog. _

The kitchen smells of jasmine. Underneath its heady scent are aromas of muesli, toast and eggs. But the jasmine is what hits me like a punch in the gut when I step into the kitchen, knuckling the sleep out of my eyes.

Her and her bloody gourmet tea.

Normally, I would indulge her and share a cup. But today, I want the bitterness of coffee. It fits my black mood perfectly. Dark and unforgiving, coffee is a real biker's drink. Though I can't call myself a biker any more since I sold my ride a few years back. She had insisted on it and somehow I found myself bending to her will. Funny how that happens so often.

She watches me as I prep the machine for an espresso. Her cerise eyes narrow as I stretch to get the beans from the overhead cabinet, baring my midriff for all to see. The loose pyjamas pants slide down slightly from my movement. I don't bother to hitch them up. After all, it's not like she hasn't seen my body before.

"Shouldn't you get dressed?"

I start and turn around. It wasn't the question that takes me by surprise. It is the lilt in her voice.

"I'm not going so early. Nao can handle the morning clients," I reply archly, matching her playfulness. After all, being lead partner in one's private investigation agency has its perks.

She blinks languidly as she considers the unsaid, her lips curving in amusement. She, of course, was already dressed in her office attire. She looked feminine yet...bad ass... no wonder, she had so effortlessly turned her start-up mobile communications company into a multinational conglomerate.

She returns her attention to making breakfast. She tilts the frying pan, dumping scrambled eggs onto a plate and then leaves the pan in the sink. I try not to grimace at that. It was one of our unbreakable rules: whoever cooks, the other cleans.

She smirks as she places the plate at my end of the counter along with a plate of toast. I forget sometimes how she seems to read my mind. I merely harrumphed in mild annoyance as the coffee machine growls to life.

She says nothing and instead watches the flower balls blossom in the expensive glass teapot I had bought for her last Christmas. An expensive glass teapot for fricking expensive tea. No one could dispute that my lady didn't know how to live well.

I study her out of the corner of my eye. She moves with effortless grace. She makes the act of pouring the muesli into a bowl and adding milk seem like a ballet. She seems content to eat in silence. When did we slip into such a...mundane routine? The coffee slops over the mug's rim as I stir the brew with perhaps a tad more force than necessary.

"Be careful," she quickly says automatically.

I merely arch an eyebrow at her while trying to surreptitiously suck on a scalded finger. She notices and laughs softly. Her shoulders are still quaking with mirth as she takes a delicate sip of her tea.

A slight frown crinkles her brow.

"There's something missing," she murmurs.

She takes another small taste and ponders for a moment. A fingertip taps against the marble counter top. I listen to its soft staccato beat as I flip open the morning daily. The byline makes me grin for a moment: Chie Harada. The Queen of Snoops had scooped another scandal.

"I wonder what it could be..." she muses as she lowers the yunomi cup slowly.

Halfway through scanning the front-page news I feel a heat. It is as if I walked out from the shadows into the blazing sunlight. Hair rising on the nape of my neck, I look up to see those crimson eyes gleam mischievously.

Oh no...Hell no...

"I think I know what it is..." she says, a sly smile blossoming on her lips.

Despite the futility of it, I try to escape as she pounces. She dodges around the newspaper I throw at her. The papers flutter like angry bats to the floor as I vault over the counter. She laughs as she follows, landing in front of me. I skip backwards but in my haste, I trip. Before I even hit the floor, she is on top. She pins me easily, wearing a devilish grin.

"Now... Natsuki, would you like coffee, tea or me?" she asks softly.

I pretend to think for a moment then reach up to tell her my answer. Maybe Mondays are not so bad after all...


End file.
